


Laid Bare

by aldiara



Category: Alles was zaehlt
Genre: Alles was zählt - Freeform, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-01
Updated: 2010-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldiara/pseuds/aldiara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deniz can't find his shirt. (ca. episode 314)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laid Bare

“First Jenny pulling a Runaway Bride, and now this.” Roman’s voice drifts from his room, accompanied by the rustling of clothes, a muffled curse when something catches somewhere. “Maybe it’s me, have you ever thought about that? Maybe I’m bad luck for weddings. You think I’m bad luck for weddings?”

“Huh? Uhm. No, rubbish.” Deniz, still in the living room, is only listening with half an ear. He’s tossed his wedding suit onto the couch impatiently earlier, when they got changed to check in on his father; now he’s making a half-hearted effort to fold it so it won’t crinkle. Not that he cares, really, but truth be told, he’s stalling, and isn’t it all sorts of stupid to be nervous about this? It’s been less than a week since he first felt the sheets of that bed sliding against his back, and he sure as hell hasn’t been nervous since, just eager for more.

But this is different. He’s never _slept_ in that bed, has never done that in any bed, actually, not with someone curled close against him, sharing the same space, the same air. Not laid bare like that, exposing himself a whole new way.

It feels like yet another big first thing and he wonders, with the slightest tinge of resentment, if there’ll ever be something that they _both_ haven’t done, something they can discover together.

He stares at his messily folded suit on the couch; frowns. Trousers, jacket. The tie lies on top, the rich silver-blue fabric coiled like an exotic snake, lovely and dangerous. “Have you seen my shirt?”

“Cn’t hearoo, br'shin m’teesh!” Spitting noises from the bathroom, a running tap. Deniz smiles, absurdly comforted by the mundaneness of that. He pulls off his sweater, determined not to be a moron about this, and makes for the open door of the bathroom. “I said have you seen my-“

Leaning in the door, he trails off, staring. Roman is naked, leaning over the sink. The overhead light gives a soft glow to his sharp shoulder blades and the lovely, bent curve of his back, framing the firm swell of his buttocks in an enticing display of shadow and light, like overexposure, and Deniz feels the draw of that skin, that body in every nerve ending he has, so sudden and insistent that it’s a little scary.

Gulping, he looks back up to meet Roman’s eyes in the mirror. He looks tired, and a bit sad, but he cocks a brow at Deniz’s expression and smiles. “What were you looking for?” he asks, straightening up and reaching for a towel to wipe his mouth before he turns around. Deniz only shakes his head, dumbstruck as he so often is when he sees Roman like this: displaying himself with such ease, such apparent total confidence, as if nothing could touch him. He wonders how it is that whenever he sees Roman without clothes, he’s the one who feels so completely naked.

“Nothing,” he says hoarsely, the shirt already forgotten, and closes the door.


End file.
